


Adventures In Babysitting

by WickedSong



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Can really be read platonically or romantically if I'm being honest, Covering my bases with the tags really, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedSong/pseuds/WickedSong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"For all the time that Jemma Simmons had known Leo Fitz she could definitely say that she had seen at him at both his best and his worst...but she had to say that watching him trying to figure out what to do with the baby currently squirming in his arms, was perhaps the most stressed she had ever seen him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventures In Babysitting

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer/Note: I do not own AoS, or any of the characters (in this case, Fitzsimmons). So this is just a fluffy oneshot for you guys, based upon a plot bunny I had at 2am one night last week and which I really wanted to write for you guys so I hope you like. You can read it as platonic or between-the-lines romantically; it's FitzSimmons; they're practically up to interpretation at this point so onwards!

For all the time that Jemma Simmons had known Leo Fitz she could definitely say that she had seen at him at both his best and his worst. His highs and his lows were never a mystery to her and he often wore his emotions on his sleeve anyway.

Exams at the Academy had been a nightmare; one that she would cope with by drinking more coffee than she knew was good for her and pouring over notes until the small hours of the morning when she could barely keep her eyes open. And while she knew this was a manifestation of her stress, in Fitz it would arguably be worse. He'd become irritable and even snarky; or at least more so than usual. His thought process would become completely negative; 'F is failure Simmons, F is failure!' and the repeated mantra of 'Oh my God, I am going to fail' would be among his most common (and least colourful) ways of releasing the frustration through language.

He'd become frazzled too; forgetting even the most simple equation while they would study together.

But she had to say that watching him trying to figure out what to do with the baby currently squirming in his arms, was perhaps the most stressed she had ever seen him.

They had been visiting his family for the New Year and somewhere along the way, probably after the second or third beer he had been nursing; he had allegedly volunteered to babysit his older cousin's infant daughter while she and her husband spent a few hours to themselves.

The key word, according to Fitz, was allegedly, because he denied it the next day while hungover, Simmons perched on the end of his bed in his childhood bedroom holding a glass of water, some painkillers and making the point that he had made a promise and whether inebriated or not he had to follow through on it.

So that was how the pair found themselves, two days before they were due to leave for the States once more, babysitting. Jemma had had experience with babies before; she had a younger sister herself and had occasionally babysat for her older sister's two kids as well.

Fitz, on the other hand, seemed in way over his head. He had had problems, with Jemma running back and forth trying to make it easier for him, but all of them had paled in comparison to the stress that had overcome him when while giving her her last scheduled feed of the night from her bottle; the baby – a gorgeous little girl, in Jemma's opinion, with a set of curls on her head (quite like Fitz's, Jemma had noted), named Nicole – brought some of it back up all over his jeans only minutes later.

At first he had panicked – That's not natural, Jemma, what have I done, I'm meant to be the smart one – before Jemma took Nicole off of him and burped her gently, a cloth over her shoulder in case of further spit up, pacing around the room while absent-mindedly humming a lullaby to her. There were gurgles of approval from the three month old. Jemma noticed Fitz smirking at her from the couch in the living room.

"See, Fitz," she said, feeling, she would admit it, fairly smug, "there's nothing to worry about." She looked at the little girl's face and smiled. "Aren't you just the cutest?"

Fitz made an 'eh' sound from where he was sitting and Jemma rolled her eyes at her partner. "Oh don't lie to me," she told him, looking into the infant's eyes now, "She is the cutest thing." She made a foolish-sounding 'baby noise', and when Nicole's eyes lit up once more she laughed. "Yes, you are the cutest thing!"

At Fitz's questioning look, she shrugged. "It's nothing," he admitted, standing up. It was his turn to shrug as he went to stand next to her and she carefully handed Nicole over to him.

"Gently, Fitz, gently," she said, in a soft yet forceful tone, while cradling her head.

Fitz nodded. "I handle dangerous chemicals in a lab every day, Jemma, I can handle this."

Once she was sure he had her secure, Jemma gave a small noise of protest. "You could have fooled me with your behaviour before," she argued, referring to his panic during the throw-up incident.

"In my defense, she caught me by surprise," Fitz replied, but he had that sort of dreamy tone to his voice as he looked down at the bundle in his arms. The kind of tone someone got when they looked into an infant's eyes and saw all the innocence of the world reflected in them.

At the Academy, they were faced with examples of evil and then asked how they would combat it, whether they would fix or fight it, but in the world of a three month old that evil didn't exist yet and that was an innocence Jemma couldn't imagine ever having.

"Makes you wish you could keep her like this forever, huh?" Fitz asked, sounding at ease for the first time that night, his tone much lighter and quieter, as if he was echoing Jemma's thoughts as his own.

She nodded but didn't reply. Carefully they both went to sit on the couch, watching quietly as baby Nicole fell to sleep in Fitz's arms.

"See," Jemma said, in a whisper, "Uncle Fitz can do it."

"I'm not her Uncle, Jemma," he said, equally as quiet. "She's my second-"

She just told him to shush.

Once quiet snores had pervaded the air, Jemma had asked Fitz if she could hold her once more and he only obliged, the pair carefully making the exchange again. Jemma smiled down at her, and was aware of Fitz giving her that smile again.

She looked up at him. "What?"

He shook his head. "I just guess I've never thought of being a parent before," he confessed. "I've always been quite against it myself, never thought I'd be any good at it."

Jemma shook her head. "You can do anything you put your mind to, Fitz, you know that. Rocket science or changing a nappy; you name it."

With a self-deprecating and quiet laugh he smiled at her gratefully, before leaning back on the couch. "What about you?"

Jemma gave an unsure look. "I've just never figured it into my plans. I love my little sister and my other sister's kids but-"

She trailed off, but he seemed to understand and when she didn't voice anything further, he didn't ask her to.

"But if I did," she ventured, after a brief silence, which surprised Fitz a little, "I guess I wouldn't mind either a boy or a girl. A girl would definitely be called Eleanor, though, after my grandmother."

Fitz nodded, with a smile, considering it for a moment. "That's a pretty name. Very posh though."

"And what would you call your son? Pass on the grand name of Leopold."

The smirk was quickly wiped from his face and he sat up, pointing an accusatory finger at her, while she tried not to smile, "You promised you'd never call me that again."

She gave a hearty laugh, giving up her poker face as she noted the red flush that had settled onto his cheeks. Bowing her head she apologised but saw the smile on his face and knew she hadn't hit as deep a nerve as he had let on.

Needing to go to the bathroom, Jemma passed the baby to Fitz for the second time that night, saying she'd be five minutes and if he was brave enough he should put her in the crib that was situated in the corner of the room.

He said he'd wait until she came back.

And what she did come back to was not only a still-sleeping baby but also a sleeping Fitz still protectively cradling the infant in his arms. Not finding it in her to wake him, she simply draped a blanket over them and sat beside them on the couch, tentatively placing her head on Fitz's shoulder, vowing not to fall asleep as well, trying to instead focus on the rhythm of his breathing.

It was a vow she would break approximately ten minutes later.


End file.
